


through reds and pinks

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, If I had a coin for every time I wrote 'restaurant', M/M, Marriage Proposal, Valentine's Day, YouTuber Louis, quite a lot of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17588960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: "So, you propose to me at every restaurant we go to? And you'll have it recorded?"Said out loud like that, it sounded bad- it sounded scary. Like something that was determined to go wrong.(or) Harry and Louis go through a series of fake proposals on Valentine's day for Louis's vlog.





	through reds and pinks

"What are you doing here?"

The words blurt themselves out of Harry's mouth as he rounds the corner and finds the sight before him. Louis is seated at his kitchen table with a half-empty glass of orange juice and the day's newspaper spread out.

If anything, Harry wasn't ready for his presence so early on a Sunday morning. He was still dressed in last night's clothes; a haphazardly buttoned dress shirt and a pair of black boxers. His hair was probably nothing short of a corkscrew mess. Not to mention the unconventional bags he had under his eyes.

Louis peers up at him in slow motion, hands stilling on the platform. A hand played with the glass. "I ran ou' of orange juice and I knew you had the pulpy kind."

That seems to be accurate. Harry had a carton of the pulpy kind only for Louis because honestly, pulp was disgusting. But, that doesn't explain what Louis was doing there. He was the laziest person in the world, and he would definitely go to the Asda next to his flat, rather than come all the way to Harry's.

Harry crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at his guest. "How are you here?" He presses.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Louis ducks from his scrutiny. "You leave your spare key in the fake potted plant outside your door. Everyone in London knows that."

It's a wonder he's held out this long. Harry shuffles closer, just a few metres from the kitchen table. "Louis," he warns.

'"Alrigh', alrigh'," snaps Louis. With that, he jerks up in his seat, drains his glass of juice and goes to place it in the sink. "I had a favour to ask you. So, what?" he says with his back to Harry.

Harry almost pumps his fist. "I knew it!"

Squinting at him while hopping off the stool, Louis keeps eye contact until he reaches his refrigerator again before promptly sticking his head inside once he opens it. "You're a horrible person," he says wryly, to the inside.

"So I've heard," he appears aside Louis, pulling him back by his shirt before reaching in for a carton of eggs. "What was it that you said your favour was?"

Louis closes the door with a bump of his hip and stares at Harry's back while he pulls out a skillet from a drawer. "I didn't say anythin' yet."

By now, Harry knows not to ask. It's obvious that Louis wants breakfast. It's sort of unspoken with their dynamic whenever they're over at each other's houses unexpectedly.

Now that he's got them out, Louis will definitely demand scrambled eggs, opposed to Harry's favourite sunny-side-up. Sighing to himself, Harry flips around, leaning back against the kitchen counter. He squints at the other. "What are you waiting for? On with it."

With a sheepish smile, Louis backs up until the ice dispenser is digging into his back and crosses his arms almost defensively. "I need you to volunteer in one of my videos."

At once, Harry turns back with a snap and sets to make the eggs. "No, never again," he swears, nearly dropping an egg. His shoulders are strung with tension. "Last time I did that I had to find a new flat because my landlord despised you. Should I retell the story or have you forgotten?"

"But-"

Harry almost spikes an egg at his head to make him stop talking. For now, the imagery is good. He doesn't talk until he's got two bowls of albumin and yolk respectively.

"Volunteering means I offer myself for service, not for you to come over and ask me of it."

"Favour was clearly the correct word, Harry."

Once the salt and pepper are placed alongside the bowls, he angulates himself to the side, facing his torso to Louis. "Alright. Assuming I'm the best person ever and I do this," to which Louis nods immediately with a charming smile, even though he knows Harry knows better. "What does it entail?"

The corners of Louis's lips sag down. "Oh, Harry," he says ruefully. It's quite theatrical. "You're not gonna like it, but," he clasps his hands together in a begging notion and springs on his knees. "You're the only person I could think of and you can take a joke and we have to do it, okay? Please say yes."

Harry gives him an unimpressed glare.

"The plan is to go to various restaurants on Valentine's day and one of us has to pretend to propose to the other, and we get free food. We have to go through as many places as possible."

"No," Harry slaps his palm on the granite of the counter and turns completely back to the unlit stove. Though he could deflect and avoid Louis, he knows that Louis will convince him in the end, and that's the sour part. And the fact that Harry knew that, made it worse. "That is outrageous, Louis."

Louis's voice drops behind him. "Careful, there. That's my livelihood you're talking about. I'm so close to one million subscribers, Haz-"

With a crack, Harry straightens up and stares at the cupboard at the level of his eyes. "You're doing this to get a bloody play button in the mail, is what it is. You'll go extents for that, won't you?"

"Harry."

The seriousness in his name wakes Harry up from his delirious rant. He knows from just that, that he's gone too far. He mentally slaps himself and whips around to Louis with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. I know how passionate you are about your Youtube thing." The guilt pinches him in the right places and he asks what he promised himself not to. "So, you propose to me at every restaurant we go to? And you'll have it recorded?"

Said out loud like that, it sounded bad- it sounded scary. Like something that was determined to go wrong.

But, the thought dissipates from his head upon seeing Louis's face light up. "It's a Saturday and since Liam's single," he talks through Harry's wince, "he said he'd tag along and record us. You have nowt complicated to do, I swear. We go there, we order somethin' minimal, and then I propose t'you in many romantic ways and all you have t'do is say yes with the biggest smile you've got."

He looks so hopeful, Harry doesn't know what to do. But, it wouldn't do well indulging him. "Can't anyone else do it? What if I have plans for Valentine's?"

"Oh shut up." Wonderful to know that Louis's back to being himself. "Who else do I do this with? You were the first choice, obviously" he explains with hidden sincerity. "The fourteenth is exactly a week away from today and we all know you don't do anythin' on Saturdays except for yoga and binge-watchin' drag races."

Harry grits his teeth to himself. He'd given Louis the tiniest of spaces and he's slithered in and made himself home and left no room for movement. It's his own fault, really.

"What if I have a date?"

"You don't. You broke up with Darius more than a week ago," Louis furrows his brows and shrugs. "Dunno why you didn't wait until after Valentine's to do it. Imagine all the useless gifts and teeth-rotting candy and the bleeding roses."

Dragging a hand over his face, Harry groans.

The monster rambles on. "Actually, when we went drinkin' after that, you told me the two months you dated him were like eatin' a dragonfruit."

"I said what?!"

Louis's smirk is like a rival to the sunlight. "You said it was tasteless."

"When did that happen? Why don't I remember that?" Harry widens his eyes, horror lacing his features. "Why do you remember?"

Slipping his hands into his back pockets, Louis rocks himself on his heels. "You're an excellent conversationalist sometimes, although waitin' an hour for you to finish your sentence isn't that great," he strides forward. "You're too nice to just date someone for the perks of Valentine's day, love. Let's face it, you don't have a date."

Harry sputters in reply. "We'll see about that, you imbecile."

 

♥♥♥

By Thursday, Harry has given up on looking for dates. For once, he didn't want to be nice; he wanted to go out with someone for the sake of filling in the emptiness he was about to feel on the 14th. He's called all the acquaintances' numbers living on his phone in hope that he might find a decently good enough excuse to step aside from Louis's plan. Even the exes who left on good terms had plans of their own and it infuriated Harry. For the millionth time in the week, he reminded himself why he hated Valentine's Day so much.

Louis, on the other hand, wasn't much better. He sent Harry recommendations of slightly-fancy restaurants as often as he could, the options of outfits they might wear, a bloody Excel sheet of the organised budget of their little plan. He wasn't easy on Harry. Like he always wasn't.

He wished Louis would fall sick so they wouldn't have to go through with it. Harry would definitely take time out to take care of Louis if he was with the sniffles, rather than accept too many fake proposals from him.

Would he be okay after all that?

So, just as the sun is spot sinking into the horizon on Thursday, Harry overlooks it, presses his phone to his ear with the familiar number dialed. "I can't find a date," he grumbles.

"That's me boy. Didn't I tell you that you couldn't do it?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Bugger off."

A laugh tinkles through from the other side. "Alright, then. Be ready. Semi-formal clothes. I'm comin' over at half past seven on Saturday. We'll go out for breakfast. Who doesn't love a good bit of romance over their morning tea, eh?"

 

♥♥♥

Saturday morning comes with the flourish that doesn't accommodate Harry's mood. He's still in bed when Louis traipses over to his flat in a dress shirt, looking sharp as ever, and throws his duvet off of him. No matter how many times Harry groans and covers himself, Louis patiently tortures him till he gets up and drags himself in for a shower.

He doesn't let Harry stand under the spray for even five minutes. "Come out already!" he screams, the sound of his voice garbled by the drain swallowing all the water. "We have to get on the tube!"

Midst scrubbing the middle of his back with a nearly gymnastic position, Harry stops. "The tube? You're taking your date out via public transport? You're horrible at romance."

"Oh, shut up, won't you?" Louis trills on. "I don't have to woo you, Hazza. It fits the budget and it's faster. We have to go to the restaurants that are outside the radius of five kilometres so that we don't ever have to go there again."

Harry stifles a laugh as the shower becomes a trickle. It's funny Louis knows him so well. He knows Harry won't ever go out his way to eat out.

The tube ride is nerve-wracking for Harry. The collar of his picked out blazer sticks to the back of his neck. Once upon a time, he had vowed not to appear in Louis's videos after a disastrous occurrence to the drywall in his last flat and Louis had explained it in his videos that Harry might never pop up again, though he continues to support him. He doesn't understand how he's here again.

While the train shakes and rumbles, Louis starts up his fancy camera, points the lens at himself and begins recording them. "Earthlings," he greets the unanswering camera. "As I've explained t'you in the beginnin' of the intro, we have Harry here," he tilts the camera to Harry's sullen face and then back to himself. "He's still bitter about the last time, don't mind him. Anywaaaays, we're on the way to a restaurant for breakfast," he moves his face closer, with eyes of suspicion, "which is not near where I live. I know you all are clever, but I'm not going to help you find where that is."

Harry snorts.

"Shut up, Harry," points out Louis as he turns the camera to him again. Then, he reaches to turn off his camera and puts it back in his bag. Hugging the bag to his side, Louis rests his head back and speaks to the ceiling. "This video's goin' to be a lot of work. First, arranging it. We had to make phone calls to these places in advance to let them know, and ask 'em to cooperate. Obviously, they don't know it's fake, but..." he sighs ruefully. "After we finish recordin', I have to speak to the restaurant managers about disclosing the name and their rights. Also, editing. If they agree, then managing the money from sponsorships. This is a mammoth task for a total of ten minutes on video."

Harry snorts again and he deserves the swat that's aimed at his stomach.

"I'm going to take candid shots of your face for behind-the-scenes footage. Ugly shots of you," sighs Louis, like he has no choice.

"Don't you dare."

 

♥♥♥

When they leave the station, they arrive at the first place in just five minutes. Harry's heart has been beating away frantically since he's been on the tube, but it had gotten worse once they stepped out. It was all Harry could hear through his ears.

  
They stop short before a quaint diner-like place called _Home_ where the 'H' in the logo is shaped into a picture of a house. Before he can appreciate it, Louis is pulling out his camera and filming an intro once again. "Restaraunt nummmber one!" he cries dramatically. "We're here for breakfast at," he glances down at his wristwatch. "Half past eight in the morning." The rest of it is drowned out by Harry zoning out and staring at the sign in disbelief. How could he not still believe that this was happening?

Then, Louis pulls him along by the elbow through the open glass doors. It seems to a walk-in, as they find a two-seater table and occupy it themselves. The interior is as simple as the name; wooden tables, modest wallpaper, quiet chatter around. A waiter comes by almost immediately like he had been waiting for his pounce and dishes out their laminated menus. Harry peruses over the breakfast items until Louis kicks him under the table.

"Liam over there," he nods towards the wall behind Harry.

When he turns around to look, Liam has set up his tripod and camera as discreetly as possible in the corner and pauses to smile passingly at Harry, but goes back to adjusting the height and angle. It's only moments later that Louis speaks to his lap. "Ready? Okay."

Harry glowers at him in confusion. "Sorry?"

Pointing to the side of his head where Harry has to squint to see a well hidden Bluetooth under his ear, "Liam," he answers.

"Right."

The waiter returns once again with a smile and takes their order. "You know, I'll have tea first," says Harry, glancing at Louis to make sure he catches the drift. "A Darjeeling tea, please."

Louis smiles approvingly at him before he turns back to the other man. "We're so alike sometimes, this one and I," he gestures to Harry vaguely. He also scrunches his nose in a way that Harry knows is meant to be encompassing. "I'll have a Yorkshire, please. We'll order brekkie a bit later."

The teas come fairly quickly with their respective teabag placed on the saucers, accompanied by a basket of condiments, along with a pitcher of milk. Just as Harry's dunking in his teabag in and the colour's starting to blot through, Louis makes a move to drop something in it. Whatever it is, goes down with a gurgle. "What the hell, mate?" he hisses.

"Shh, just go with it," whispers Louis. "Drink up. As fast as you can."

Although Harry is mildly disgusted, he listens and does as he's told. Just as he drains it all, something cold falls abruptly against his upper lip. It clangs upon lowering the cup. "A ring? Seriously," Harry asks wryly. He takes a look back into his cup. "A fake ring."

"Just go with it and I'll buy you a real one," begs Louis. "Now, scream like you're surprised."

Harry widens his eyes. "What? No!"

"Scream, Harry!"

A hand sneaks up Harry's knee and pinches the meat of his thigh quite hard. At the feeling of blood rushing to the inflamed place, Harry can't help but let out a loud, brash shriek. Everyone nearby turns to look at them.

Louis's eyes are pleading, threatening and encouraging at the same time.

Though it's daunting, Harry manages to pull out the wet ring from his empty cup and raises it to face level so everyone can get a look. Immediately, there are a few gasps and several dramatic cries. Trying not to fall out of character, Harry stares in awe at the ring.

Out of nowhere, Louis snatches it out of his hand, leaps out his chair, walks around until he's on a knee beside Harry's chair. Around, everyone's started to cheer and clap, which only serves to help Louis's performance. "Darling," he purrs. "I've had this ring in my pocket for two months now and I've thought about it a lot," he sighs deeply, trying not to grin mischievously. "I thought, what's better than doing it on Valentine's day, and I had this big thing planned for you this evening with a boat and candles and some music," he pauses to let the audience coo on cue. "But, looking at you right now, I couldn't stop myself. So..."

It's a little bit late when Harry remembers he has to say something. "So?"

"Will you marry me?"

Since it's a joke between them, it isn't hard to smile and nod. He and Louis on their feet at once, and they throw their arms around each other in unison. He feels Louis kiss his cheek as he buries his giggles into Louis's shoulder. They break apart long enough for Louis to slide the ring into place before embracing again.

"Fun, isn't it?" Louis mutters through his teeth.

Harry pinches his side.

Louis pulls away from him, eyes sparkling, arms still looped around his waist. "We must celebrate this day! Let's go back home and ravish each other," he declares. Harry's wince mingles and fades between the applause from those around them.

Before they know it, a man in a suit -most probably the manager- comes up to them with a platter of what look like freshly baked palmiers. "A courtesy of our restaurant. Your tea is on the house. Congratulations to the both of you," he says with a 1000-watt smile. Harry is too engrossed at his teeth to notice that Louis had accepted it and is bowing in gratitude. He quickly slips on a smile before someone notices there's something wrong.

Shamelessly, Louis picks up each palmier with a serviette and shoves them into his pockets of his coat while smiling charmingly. If it wasn't for Harry knowing him so well, he would have seen past it too. Everything is over by the time Louis clutches his sleeve and pulls him along with a dazzling smile pasted on. Several congratulations are thrown at them as they leave and Harry nods at large. When they get to the exit, Louis makes a show of kissing his cheek.

There's a deficiency of air around Harry. He can't even breath as they come out into the open air. It all went so fast and with so much flourish. Harry can't even go back and replay to figure it out. To top it off, Louis had broken quite a few unspoken rules of contact.

Years ago, Harry had come to the fact that he couldn't stop touching Louis once he's begun. It was a conclusion he had gotten to after a particularly inebriated evening. He didn't want Louis finding out. He clenches his fists by his sides and tries to refocus on what Louis is going off about.

"-incredible, Harry!" exclaims Louis. His eyes are still lit up with enthusiasm. They nearly glow in the dimness of the alley they've ducked into. "You've got to do a better job, though. You've taken acting lessons and done a theatre play, what's gotten into you?"

How does Harry tell him that it doesn't apply in the current situation? A major part of the scene is the audience's reactions.

The sound of boots tapping on the pavement comes closer and halts. "Good work, lads," says Liam, a large camera tucked under his arm. The worry lines on his face say he's as excited as Harry is. "Shall we get a move on? I want to get this over as quickly as possible so that I can go home and drown myself in gin."

"Gin causes impotence," Louis says sweetly. "It's why Royal families don't drink it."

Liam grimaces in reply, verging on horror. "Oh god," he laments.

Harry shakes his head and glares at the side of Louis's face as he reaches into the latter's pocket and produces a poorly wrapped palmier. He thrusts it at Liam, simultaneously taking the camera bag from him.

Momentarily, Liam is distracted by eating, crumbly pastry and jam stuck around his mouth.

 

♥♥♥

Whilst eating the rest of the palmiers, Harry and Louis walk past a few streets, Liam hurrying away for the setup, and reach a place that's next on the list. Throughout, Harry is plagued by Louis's one-sided conversations about how the next proposal must be like. He rolls his eyes at how spontaneous Louis had initially sought out to be. Since it was nearing a late breakfast time, Louis had the decency to make reservations. They film another video a bit away from the entrance.

The restaurant is a flat and long beige building called _Binnacle_ , with the tittle on the 'I' in the exact shape of a binnacle. It's moderately filled with people- mostly seniors. As they are lead to their table, Harry's brain hurts as he looks around. It's so utterly nautical, that perhaps it had taken over the entirety of the place like a fungus. The walls are an ultramarine blue with white accents, along with a section of typical wallpaper. There are doodles of toy ships and life-jackets peppered here and there. Even the waiters are dressed as sailors. It's nauseating.

As soon as they're seated, Harry makes it a point to kick Louis's shin. Naturally, Louis kicks back and it's a war until a waiter comes to dish out their menus, but not before informing them of the day's special breakfast of heart-shaped crabcakes.

Passing on the crabcakes completely, they order bangers, baked beans and tomatoes. They have the complimentary glasses of pomegranate juice (which is also probably valentine's day themed, damn if they'll have to see a conglomeration of love and ocean together) and once again spot out Liam and make idle conversation before their plates are set and the food comes in.

Harry has to gestures wildly to stop Louis from pulling out the ring immediately, Since they're starving, they make their way through the bangers first. Louis complains but polishes the beans off his plate. It's only when Harry's retrieving his phone from his pocket that something thuds against the tiled floor.

There's a tiny velvet covered box laying between both of their feet, ostensibly with the ring in it, and even though it's clear that it fell out of Louis's pockets, he gasps and cups his hands over his mouth. "Bleeding hell, were you going to propose to me, Harry?"

All Harry can do is nod mutely.

"In that case, yes," he sobs. "A million times yes!"

Harry gathers his senses and picks the ring off the floor and offers it up. He doesn't have to say anything since everything that had to be done was by Louis. He jams his finger through the ring before Harry can ease it onto him. For an effect, Louis cups his face and drags it towards himself and smothers him with half-hearted kisses, so hard that Harry has to attempt to catch his breath.

A few minutes after they sit down, their waiter saunters towards them. He places a beautiful plate of neatly done petit fours, beside their clasped hands on the table. Each petit four is pillowed with fondant, adorned with intricately placed edible pearls and topped with miniature sugar paste shaped into yachts.

Harry picks up his dessert spoon too soon.

"Congratulations," the waiter says with a wink. "Enjoy."

They get a forty-five per cent discount on the cheque with the free dessert and Harry savours every last crumb before they leave.

 

♥♥♥

Brunch at half past ten is at a place called _Renee's_. They have a seat beside a large window that filters in the perfect amount of sunlight. There are square tables with shimmery tablecloths and teak chairs facing each other. There's a live flambe counter far off. The waiters are dressed in waistcoats with red, heart-shaped pocket squares. Not as nauseating as Harry thought it would be.

They decide that they can tuck in and go to town on the order. It takes another waiter to bring in their food- Eggs Neptune, smoked salmon, fruit stuffed crepes and coffee glazed bacon. It's unclear whether it's good that they've asked for so much since the portions were smaller than expected.

Louis gets down on both his knees beside Harry's chair while the latter is chewing through cheeks of food. It gets harder to swallow once Louis takes his hands into his own, looks into his eyes and says words that pull a smile out of his lips.

"You've been my best mate before anythin' else, and that's what I'm doin' right now," he explains. "I'm askin' you to marry me, and I'm hopin' you'll support me through this decision like every other one. And I'm hopin' you'll marry me so that I can look forward to the numerous amoun' of sleepovers with you."

Everyone 'awws' and Harry still can't swallow. The words are just a breath away from being true, and it only serves in pushing Harry's disbelief towards making it out alive.

His heart is on the brink of stopping and there's nothing he can do as the ring slides onto his paralysed hand.

He reckons that the endlessly free rounds of bellinis that they're treated to makes it totally worth it. After all, they're much better than mimosas.

♥♥♥

One o' clock in the afternoon finds them walking into a fancy restaurant called _CYAN_. The glass top tables end with a base of an aquarium rather than wooden legs. Whilst ordering a salad, Harry takes guilty pleasure in getting distracted into ducking under the table to tap against the puckering mouths of the angelfish and tropical goldfish. He's too fascinated by it to be socially acceptable.

Louis pretends to show him the box with the ring through the other side of the aquarium with a blinding grin.

After so long of being caught off guard, Harry supposes he's getting better at it. He pops up with a staged gasp and cups his own cheeks.

"You can tell my love in the way I let you make me brekkie and do my laundry," jokes Louis somewhere in the middle. And then he ends his proposal flawlessly. If only both of them were prepared so well.

Harry manages to squeeze out an impossible tear through his left eye and moves seats so he can bury his wrinkled face into Louis's shoulder.

 

♥♥♥

The second part of lunch is at half past two when they've walked off all their energy, midst feeding Liam a bowl of quinoa they'd taken away from the previous restaurant. It's a quaint place with velvet walls called _Corde et Ancre_  where they have a Chef's surprise option.

Louis does the job of slipping the ring amidst the folds of the serviette poised on Harry's plate in the flawless shape of a swan.

The plan is nearly ruined when a waiter comes by to retrieve their prearranged plates for ones that are to come straight from the kitchen. Thankfully, it's saved when Louis lets out a mayday call and encourages Harry to get on with it, all while ignoring the advances of the dutiful waiter.

Harry pretends to be confused, showing it in the way he looks between the both of them- Louis's panicked face and the waiter's annoyed one. Nonetheless, he picks the serviette up hesitantly, and out falls the ring in a timed manner, clattering on the porcelain. The waiter backs away slowly, becoming aware of the intimate moment.

Feigning a conglomeration of surprise and disbelief, Harry's jaw drops open as Louis grasps his hand across the tabletop.

Tables around them have started to notice, and Louis looks deep into his eyes, unsettling. He murmurs what people think is a proposal.

"Harold, the bane of my existence," he declares lowly with a sweet smile. "I hope you drown in Satan's cauldron of hot oil 'cause it's better than drinkin' lava or walkin' on flames. The reason is bein' the both of us are committin' a sin by lyin' to these people. I'll be with you every step of the way. Anywhere with you is heaven, darling," he purrs. Then, he clears his throat and speaks louder. "Marry me?"

Meanwhile, Harry is trying to rein in his laughter as he nods. It must come off as joyous, because the old couple adjacent to their table burst into feeble cheers, jumping in their seats. It's enough to make the entire restaurant beam at them.

It's enough to enjoy the Dacquoise they receive for free.

 

♥♥♥

Snack time at four o' clock is over cups of lemon tea, with the tea bags dangling out. There wasn't anything originally planned for the evening, to give themselves a break before the dinner proposals. But, Louis had dragged him in when he saw the board of _#SOCKS._

It is a bakery with a reading section included, as well as a game corner. Amongst the teenagers on cheap dates, they looked out of place. Louis being Louis, didn't care. That was one of the best things.

Louis has been clearly winging all of his proposal ideas because they don't get too creative. It's the usual getting-on-one-knee or dropping-the-ring-into-your-glass types. And to propose is a bakery? Preposterous.

But, it takes five minutes of Louis's Googling skills to figure out that there was an old pediatric clinic in the place of the current bakery, and after getting them both tea, he goes to buy a pair of scones. Harry sits at a far off table, watching him weave a story of their meet-cute in the pediatric clinic, to the awe-eyed cashier. It makes it so much easier to bring the small dish with the ring wedged into a scone that's sitting into a bed of flakes.

There are cat-calls and individual congratulations. The cashier looks like she might just faint out of joy when she hands them an on-the-house chocolate chip muffin.

Somehow, it tastes bitter to Harry.

 

♥♥♥

Dinner Part One was supposed to be at a fancy restaurant that Louis made reservations at last week. But, Harry can say that he's tired to go through the same motions once again. As much as it has been fun, it's been just as torturous for Harry. Even if he pushed emotion out of the context, he was still suffering throughout the day.

It's like Louis has read his mind because they walk slower than usual. Side by side, their hands grazing. Eventually, Louis's hand snakes into his and they're stopping before a bar before Harry actually notices. His hands are too numb from the cold to notice until Louis pulls him back from his steps. Right. They were still putting on a show.

"Hey, this is our song," he nods towards the music coming from the bar.

When Harry tunes in, he recognises the guitar slowly plucking to a rendition of [Yellow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx3GYwq0-v0). This wasn't their song. He was certain they didn't have a song. Or maybe, Harry was the only one keeping track of songs. "What?"

Louis raises his eyebrows with a suppressed smile.

"Do you want to go in?" He hints, pointing to the entrance with the hand that isn't caught in Louis's grip. It suddenly feels warmer than it's been all day. This was probably the plan since the beginning. Spontaneity, claimed Louis, but he was still a little bit of a planner.

"Naah, it's got to be too crowded inside," he reasons. Through the dim lighting, there are only three taken tables- but neither of them was even looking in. "Let's just stay here." With that, he pulls Harry in with a jerk.

Harry stumbles into his space, breath left far behind. It isn't better when Louis wraps his other arm around Harry's waist and hooks his head over his shoulder. In return, Harry lets him snuggle into their shared warmth, and lean his weight on him. To see Louis's heels off the ground was always a speciality.

Things like dancing in the streets happened in films. It doesn't really debunk Harry's theory of a dream. Things like this never happened.

"Improvisation, huh?" Harry mutters next to his ear.

Louis hums in reply. "Something like that."

"This isn't going to get us anything, you're steering away from the goal," whispers Harry. Obviously, Louis ignores him.

They rock side to side, feet barely scraping off the pavement, just shuffling in circles. "You know, Harry," muses Louis. "If this was actually our song, I'd say it's an excellent choice."

To that, Harry doesn't reply. He files away the song for a playlist only he's made in his head.

About a few minutes later of Harry trying not to let his heart beat too fast and basking at the moment, they're torn from their bubble when an attendant from the bar comes to disrupt them. "I'm sorry," he says sheepishly. "Our manager saw the both of you and couldn't help herself." He stretches out a plastic bag with a rectangular box in it. "On us. Have a nice night."

Words are lodged within Harry's throat, but Louis is fast enough to call out a 'thanks' as the man slips inside.

It's only when they begin to walk away, that Harry realises that Liam was nowhere around to film it.

 

♥♥♥

The last restaurant happens to be on a street that's too quiet for the night. Its logo is of a stag and is called _17Black_. It looks like it's filed away specifically for their last trip. It's at the end of a forked street, under a dim streetlamp. The soft sound of saxophone wavers into the outsides as they approach it.

As they wait by the door for Liam to signal the finishing of his set up, Louis turns to him. "You have to propose to me this time."

Harry almost sputters. "I can't. I would be horrible at it, I'd give it away."

"We've got six on the footage, I think it's okay if you mess up just one."

Jamming his cold hands into his pockets, Harry looks straight ahead to avoid his gaze. "You said my job was just to say yes to you."

"I'm tired of proposing, Harry," says Louis with a sigh. "For once, I want to be on the receiving end of it and if you give a speech at least, half as good as mine, I'll die a happy and honest man."

Harry can only roll his eyes before Liam is beckoning them in, voice static through Louis's Bluetooth.

As they enter the lit interior of the restaurant, Harry begins to feel the weight of the expectation that Louis has on him. It's so like him to say things, kick dirt into the ditch as he walks away like it isn't a big deal. Simultaneously, he sat back patiently until he got what he wanted. It was one of the most infuriating things about Louis- determined to drive people to their death out of sheer insanity.

Between two glasses of complimentary champagne and plates of beef wellington, Harry looks up with his eyebrows knitted, squinting at the other as to make clear that he should do something. Louis merely gives him a cool look, leans back in his chair and chews lazily.

"Getting late, isn't it?" says Harry, pointedly.

Louis looks like he's trying to dampen a wide grin, with the way his lips twitch uncontrollably. "I'd say we have all the time in the world. We'll stay as long as you need to." To emphasise it, Louis leans forward, cups a hand over Harry's on the tabletop.

Controlling the urge to slap away Louis's hand, Harry sighs wistfully. It was definitely going to be a long night. "C'mon, Louis. You know this isn't fair," he says in a low voice.

"As I said, all the time in the world," simpers Louis.

Fifteen minutes of contemplation later, Harry has glowered at his best mate enough to singe a burnt hole through him- it might have passed off as fondness to others. There's also a rather tedious kicking fight they had, that the tablecloth helpfully concealed. Food was pushed around unartistically on Harry's plate. So, yes, fifteen minutes later, he decides it's enough of the nerve-wracking silenced fight, and even though he hasn't prepared, he's going to wing it so well, no one will be able to tell.

The only way for everyone to notice he was proposing was to Louis, was if he makes the show of getting on one knee. They could do it over the table, but it wouldn't have quite the effect. There was definitely no other way he could go about it at a formal restaurant.

It's exactly what Harry does.

He drags his chair back and sinks down beside Louis's, box in hand. At that, Louis doesn't do his usual dramatic gestures of cupping his hands over his mouth or screech deafeningly. He simply smiles. The very smile says that he feels triumphant in getting Harry to do what he's wanted.

Suddenly, everything around Harry is quiet. Everyone seems to have held their breath tight, just like Harry. Or perhaps, that was in his head. He couldn't tell, and he couldn't look around to confirm. He had to focus on the task at hand.

"Louis Tomlinson," he says slowly and stretched out. Just so he can come up with what to say. "You make me so angry."

In reply, Louis raises an eyebrow, mouth pursed into a poorly hidden smirk.

"So, so angry," he emphasises with a shake of his head. "Amongst many things. I feel so many things when you're around. In the best possible way. But, I feel a lot of anger."

Louis tilts his head in question as if it were all real.

"It isn't fair," starts off Harry. It seems like he's on the right track because Louis is actually listening intently. The atmosphere around them is quiet. He knows the audience is enraptured too. "That you're like this. That you're so... beautiful.

"That you could annoy me all you want and I'll come right back to eat out of your hand," Harry laughs. "It makes me so angry because I didn't how I came to love you, but one day I just knew I did. Because who doesn't fall in love with you? The way you are, who can't look at you and think 'this person is incredible and I want him in my life'?

"But, anger doesn't compare to the happiness I feel. Even when we're fighting or when you are as headstrong as you are, I want to keep fighting with you. I want to keep apologising and I want you to take the mickey like you always do. I want to do it- _us_ for as long as possible. Preferably till when we're too old and you'll pull a hamstring just to fulfill your need to kick me in the shin.

"I'm horrible at this. At talking about my feelings, but with you, it's all I ever want to tell you, and I can't," his voice cracks, embarrassing and unnecessary. "But, all I can tell you is, I want to spend the rest of my life feeling like this, if not more than this. So, please, please do me the honour of marrying me? Just to drive me insane?"

When Harry focuses back, he notices that he's popped open the box. When he looks up at Louis's face, he notices the latter's smile shrinking into nothing. It hits him right then; this wasn't a fake proposal. It wasn't a real proposal, either. It was teetering on the line between a proposal and a confession, if those sort of lines even existed.

Harry wonders if his face has gone gooey, if the smirk turned into a sad smile. If his words had fallen so far that they made a depth on their own. But, judging Louis's serious eyes, there's a confirmation in the place of the if.

The uproar of applause breaks the both of them from their own reveries, pushing Louis to jut out his left hand at Harry, to which he hastily jams the ring onto. On cue, the both of them stand up to hug, and Harry can feel the lines of Louis's frown on the side of his face.

 

♥♥♥

It's about half past ten in the night when they run out of reservations and most restaurants don't serve anymore for any impromptu setups. Liam officially packs up his camera and tripod before strapping on a helmet and zooming away on his motorcycle. They walk down to the nearest tube station, tired from eating and switching restaurants and faking happiness.

Harry can't help but run his words over in his head. And Louis's face... Louis's face looked like he was caught off guard in the worst sense, like he might just snap and walk away from Harry, possibly forever. Or maybe even out into awkwardness over the coming days. The awkwardness would definitely turn them into not friends. Harry doesn't think he could handle that. That and the impending tube journey they had to take back to their places. Thinking about the sheer stupidity of it felt excruciating.

"Nobody at all," Louis pipes up, as they file onto the platform. It's empty, save for an old man and a drunk couple. His words echo slightly from it. "You were right. No one likes a tube ride on Valentine's day."

Harry wants to say something funny, but he can't make himself do it.

Soon enough, a train creeps up and halts before the doors slide open to a completely empty car. The starting of the train whizzed past with quite a few passengers until they tapered down to nobody towards the last. The two of them step in at once. Harry claims a seat a bit further from the doors, right under an advertisement for itch cream, making his back comfortable against the metal. To his surprise, Louis plops down next to him just as the car begins moving sideways and away.

The train streams at a steady pace and Harry concentrates on the vibration it sends through his skull when he leans his head against the frame of the window. Perhaps, they would go home fine, but the next morning would be terrible. Louis wouldn't invite himself over for a lazy-day and they won't talk about their Monday blues after that. They might not long for the weekend on Tuesday and they might not encourage each other on making it midway on Wednesday. They're not going to whinge about work on Thursday and thank god for Friday and before they'll know it, it'll be a week since they've talked at all. They'll let it stay that way because they won't talk. They won't ever talk again, possibly.

"Harry," calls Louis from beside him.

He doesn't want to answer. He's rather enjoying the show of depreciating thoughts checking in and out of his head.

Louis says his name again, this time more insistently.

With a sigh, Harry lols his head to the left and meets the latter's too intense gaze. "Hmm?"

In reply, Louis opens his mouth to say something and hesitates just once and then pushes the words out. "Do I make you sad?"

How was Harry supposed to answer that? It was his one chance to redeem it all, to play it off as a joke and let everything go back to normal and they can laugh about all these pranks months from now- as friends, having Louis in his life. Or he could be truthful, because the damage is already done and there's no turning back, and there's no way but down from there. They have been best mates for three years now, seeking comfort in each other from the post-uni struggles, and they could talk about these things and get over them, right? He doesn't think he has anything left to lose. Or perhaps there was quite a lot at stake that he wasn't seeing at the moment. Either way, Harry decides the road not taken and marches towards the large cloud that looks suspiciously like it's made of his emotions.

"You do," he says with a slow nod. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, and about how it affected me. It didn't seem bad after a while. It isn't."

When he focuses back on Louis's face after a moment of hanging silence, he notices that the two of them sat in mirrored positions. Louis's head is tilted up and against the window, accentuating the angle of his jaw. It angulates his nose and makes it appear as though he's looking through his lashes.

But, oh.

Louis _is_ looking through his lashes at him. He's also glancing at Harry's lips ever so often. It doesn't help the bubbling volcano in his chest.

All it takes is sucking in a sharp breath and Louis is rocking forward, letting his lips fall squarely on his cupid's bow before the train jolts and leaves them in the right place. For just a few seconds, Harry is frozen, shoulders taut and fists clenched on top of his thighs, but Louis's hand snakes up his neck and makes home at the curve of Harry's jaw. It makes realisation go off inside Harry like wings that fall open from being folded.

He tastes like the remnants of the orange-chocolate cake they had earlier. He tastes like all the things Harry has wanted but never had- like a piece of impossibility that he's gotten his hands on. The tease of Louis's tongue along the seam of his bottom lip reveals an active shudder that meanders down his spine, immediately flicking all the way up.

It makes Harry keen louder than he expects himself to, and awakens him in another kind of way.

It makes him break away for the air he didn't notice he was missing. Would it be rude to kiss Louis again? Or maybe too selfish? He doesn't dare open his eyes and watch everything perish away.

Louis's touch resonates through him as the hand by his jaw moves erratically over his cheek, thumb seeking the damp underside of Harry's bottom lip, that's pinched red to his liking. "Haz," he murmurs. He doesn't want to reply. He wants to savour it and replay it until his stop comes. "Hazza."

"Hmm?"

The words are a mere whisper with their faces barely a few centimetres apart. "Why didn't you tell me I could be that for you? That I could help you fill ice?"

Harry's eyes snap open at that. "What?"

Louis's mouth curves into a smile and the phantom touch of it is felt by Harry. "You probably don't remember, but you were drunk and you launched off into a speech about relationships. You used analogies. Really bad analogies because you were plastered," he lets out a husky laugh. "One of them was that you hated filling the icebox alone because it was work to fill it with water, carry it all the way to the fridge and open the door yourself. You wished somebody was there to open the door for you."

Groaning at himself, Harry feels his ears turn hot. "Why do you remember all of that, Lou?"

"I dunno, love. I didn't realise until now that I remember almost everything about you, even though I don't try to."

For that, Harry has to kiss him. So, he does.

In return, Louis steals one, two, three, four kisses from him, each longer than the other before they snog some more. When the doors slide open at another station, they're shocked back into reality, hurrying to straighten out their clothes and pat down their hair and wipe away their mouths just as a man with a briefcase, strides in and gives them a dodgy look.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Louis drum his fingers on his thighs, glancing everywhere except for him in an attempt to play it cool. It's hilarious to watch Louis lose his screws and see him try to hold himself together after it. To make situations worse, Harry sneaks a hand over his leg and skitters his fingers along the inside of his left thigh and feels Louis go rigid. He silently laughs to himself.

Upon seeing Harry's jubilance over it, Louis leans over, neck craning up to make his words reach Harry. "I need another a favour," he mutters.

"Not again," whispers Harry.

Louis arches up straighter, letting his lips meet the shell of Harry's ear. His hand slides down his back and curls lazily over the swell of his hip, leniently dropping lower. The rickety car made Harry's jump look natural. "I want you to let me come home with you today."

"Oh?"

"That's right. I'm comin' to yours because I need breakfast t'morrow and I'll be too lazy to do it meself," he says gravely. "Not because I'm tryin' very hard not to push you down against this dirty floor and have me way with you."

Harry can't even unlock his jaw- he can't even blink to convey he's heard it.

"Did you get that?" A tingle of a kiss is left under Harry's ear and the warmth is suddenly gone.

Harry doesn't have to look over to know that Louis is smirking. But, that's that.

 

♥♥♥

 

Five years later, Louis's subscriber count has gone way beyond a few million. The 'Valentine's Day: Proposal Pranks + Free Food' video is the second most watched video, right after an edited montage of Harry and Louis's wedding.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone notice the deal with the restaurant names? Let me know. x
> 
> Feedback is appreciated. x


End file.
